


Shatter Me

by ShatterTheNexus



Series: In Which [4]
Category: I.O.I (Band), PRISTIN (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2020-07-28 03:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20057419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatterTheNexus/pseuds/ShatterTheNexus
Summary: In which memories are pure, painful, and precious.“Somebody make me feel alive and shatter me.” (Lindsey Stirling feat. Lzzy Hale)





	Shatter Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written at 3am and posted on AFF in 2018. I.O.I era.

I miss the late nights of sweat and tears. Yawning at the crack of dawn.

I miss breathing in time as the mirrors fogged up and the floorboards creaked.

I miss your gasps from the crisp midnight air on our walks to the convenience store.

How you’d trip over your shoes because you never wore them properly.

You’d get on bended knee with the smuggest grin.

Three seconds is all it takes, I’d proclaim, even to this day.

I miss the youthful look in your eyes under the stars.

Yours were as clear as a stream, deep and soulful and full of wonder.

I miss the warmth of your skin, the purest scent of you.

I miss the cool touch of your lips on my forehead.

When I’d pull you up from the ground,

And my palms found their way to yours.

I’d line them up as perfectly as I could.

I miss how I could curl the tips of my fingers over yours.

You’d scrunch up your nose and laugh to the sky.

Because you were just so darn adorable when you whined.

My eyes would roll back another thousand times.

Yet always, your grasp was magnetic, never leaving me behind.

You’d find the strength to pull me back.

I had to make sure. I had to believe. That was real.

I remember your nails tracing lines and tangling in my hair.

The softness of your cheek beneath my thumb, calloused from years of strumming.

The sharpness of your collarbones, rising and falling in valleys.

That audible intake of breath when you realized your eyes were wandering.

But you stepped closer until I could feel the heat of your gaze and hear your pulse.

Your hands were locked to my hips, chaining me in place.

They weren’t strong enough for that.

They didn’t have to be when I was so weak for you.

I miss when you’d lie on my chest as the hours stretched on.

I miss the steady rhythm of life that gave me the will to continue.

There never seemed to be enough of me to hold you. My shoulders, so narrow and frail.

You stood tall and straight-backed, like a queen. A conqueror.

Someone you strived to be, you’d try to convince me.

I miss those times, because what I’d say was limited to honesty. You knew that.

I miss those times, because what I believed would lay to rest when I closed my eyes and felt you there.

I miss when you’d say goodnight in one language.

And you’d say goodnight in another.

I’d coo your name like a whisper in the wind.

And I’d butcher yours until I burrowed into my sheets out of shame.

I miss curling up next to you, coaxing you out of hiding, telling you it was alright.

You were the only one who could ever find me.

Who said it was you who needed to be found?

I miss being lost in you.

Because sometimes trivial matters are just too damn hard to battle.

We didn’t need strength or encouragement or tough love.

We needed familiarity. Someone to share our pain, not banish it.

You worked so hard. Proud, independent, but so far away and so alone.

You worked so hard. Hopeful, progressive, but for so long and so alone.

I miss telling you it’s worth it all.

I miss telling you you’re worth it all.

~|~|~|~

A low buzz. An irritating vibration. A jingling tritone shocks her dreary mind. A small hand wraps around her bony elbow. The words are lost. She forces herself to hum.

“…nie…. Ye…. all…” It’s still indecipherable. She doesn’t respond this time. It takes too much energy.

Jieqiong grunts as someone jabs her in the ribs. She jolts up in her seat and wipes the drool from the corner of her mouth. The glaring blue light blinds her. A searing pain ripples through her nerves like the desert sun on raw flesh. She curls into another girl’s side with a hiss. The other barely flinches.

“Unnie.” The voice is clearer now, accompanied by more frantic flapping of Jieqiong’s stiff, cracking wrist.

“What’s wrong?” Jieqiong groans. It’s difficult to sound concerned when half-conscious.

“Yebin unnie called,” says Yoojung urgently.

“Who?” Jieqiong’s head is heavy even when supported by Somi’s shoulder.

“Yebin unnie. Pledis, your labelmate. You never miss a call from them.” Yoojung thrusts the smartphone into Jieqiong’s palm. She looks close to tears with worry.

Jieqiong presses the home button and a dated caller ID photo flashes across the notifications. A girl with long, flowing chestnut hair, bright eyes, and a long face. To Yoojung, and the rest of the nation, Kang Yebin’s bob cut is notorious.

“Call her back,” Yoojung insists. Jieqiong smiles. The little one has a lot of heart for everyone around her. Jieqiong wishes Yoojung saved a bit for herself.

When Jieqiong’s vision adjusts to the dark street outside, she registers the dial tone buzzing softly. Yoojung sighs in relief and turns her back on Jieqiong. She curls up to the cold, rain-splattered window and pretends to sleep to give Jieqiong some privacy. The line goes silent for a few seconds, then a deep exhale crackles through.

“I shouldn’t have called.”

“But you did,” Jieqiong says simply.

“It’s late.”

Jieqiong glances around from the back seat of the van. Nine heads are slanted awkwardly, guaranteeing a dorm-wide case of neck pain. “It’ll never be a good time, just a better one.” She can see Yebin’s mirthless grin as clearly as the headrest in front of her.

“You… I… It’s not really my place to say. I shouldn’t have done this.”

“Backing out is never the Kang way.”

“Gosh,” Yebin sighs in defeat. Jieqiong hears her ruffle her hair in frustration. “It’s just, you haven’t called in a while.”

“Nayoung unnie and I spoke to Minkyung unnie a week ago,” says Jieqiong drowsily.

“Yeah, but. Three months.” There’s a strange gargling sound, as if it pains Yebin to speak coherently. “_You_ haven’t called.”

_Her_. She hasn’t called _her_ in three god damn months. Suddenly Jieqiong is awake. She’s stone cold and hollow and bone-dry. All that resides within seems to be wrenched out from her body, elastic and torturous like a rubber band that snaps back eternally and mercilessly.

“Kyulkyung-ah.” Yebin’s tone is sharper. It’s not quite accusatory, but it demands answers.

The very name burns and rots. It’s not the same. The way it flows so smoothly, sounds so natural, the way it isn’t beaten into prickly syllables. The discomfort is absurd and warranted.

“Kyulkyung-ah,” Yebin repeats.

Jieqiong’s hand falls slack. Her eyes follow the rain smearing across the tinted windows. She doesn’t feel any of the souls in the car. It’s just her, speeding along a deserted road to nowhere, alone and uncertain. It’s how she should feel for forgetting _her_. Because _she_ feels like this day in and day out. Three. Months. Of this. Lost in the middle of everywhere and finding nothing.

“I know you.” Yebin’s voice breaks through the void. “You think you’re undeserving.”

“How can I not be for neglecting her?” Jieqiong doesn’t hear her voice crack. She doesn’t see Yoojung’s hand shoot out to comfort her, before retracting as it conflicts with her stance on privacy within a two centimeter radius. It’s all they can afford as idols, after all.

“Kyulkyung-ah,” says Yebin, and her voice is soft like a cloud. “I know her too.”

“You do. You really do. You’re there for her.” Jieqiong pretends she’s speaking to Yebin, but her thoughts are leagues ahead trying to convince herself.

“Breathe,” Yebin instructs. Jieqiong follows because it’s no longer Yebin talking, but some omniscient whisper among the shadows of concrete cell walls meant to contain her.

“She doesn’t need someone like me,” Jieqiong whispers through gritted teeth. Pain bubbles up in her throat from the words. She wonders what pain _she_ endured from the silence.

“She doesn’t need you,” Yebin affirms. It singes Jieqiong’s heart like a branding iron. “But she wants you. Doesn’t that speak volumes?”

The van nudges forward then recoils as it’s put into park. The door slides open. A dim light and a soft ding alert the girls. A few hours in a real bed—they haven’t touched one since before the weekend. There’s a tense moment, and Yoojung shakes her head. They all file out like ducklings, dragging blankets and neck pillows with them. Someone peeks back in, combs back Jieqiong’s hair, and ensures her she’ll take care of the kids. The door clicks shut and darkness shrouds the back seat. Gears grind in the driver’s door when the window rolls down. The manager nods, and Nayoung bows gratefully before shuffling inside the dorm.

When did the line cut off? When did she press the dial button? It’s ringing. Then the pause before the voicemail recording. But a sound, a greeting, raspy and exhausted and in disbelief, drifts to her ear.

Jieqiong can taste the saline on her upper lip, feel the dried trails along her cheeks, smell the puddles outside when she sniffs. She scrunches up her nose, both in a guilty grimace and a longing smile. She presses the phone to her jaw to make sure not a single syllable is stolen.

“Eunwoo-yah. I’m coming home.”

~|~|~|~

Sometimes I’m like a mindless drone. I stare at the screen, absorbing but not perceiving.

You think you see someone built to perfection, smoothed at every curve.

And I see myself in the shattered reflection. Grayscale. Amounting to nothing.

You’re dead wrong. We are pieces, oblong and edged. We are shoved into place.

You and I—

Are rough, are splintered, are battered and worn. We crumble. We scrape our own wounds.

Then how do you stand so tall? How do you withstand the world?

That’s the one thing you never understood, and I’ll spend a lifetime making sure you do.

You are my world. That’s nothing to withstand. It’s something to live for.


End file.
